The Escapist
by xHalosandwings
Summary: Request for rkofan2012. "I look into your eyes, Randy, and there's nothing there. No soul, no conscience; nothing. People try to get to know you, but you shut them away, because you're scared." Maryse/Randy.


Argh, I spent so long trying to make this good! Haha, I've never wrote Randy/Maryse before so I wanted to make sure it turned out...real.  
Anyway, it's a request for _rkofan2012 _so I hope you and everyone else likes it :)

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**THE ESCAPIST**

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_Escape. Escape. Escape. What was escape? _

Swirling the whisky around his glass, this was something Randy Orton contemplated. Some saw it as running away from their problems, but not Randy. It was more...pushing a problem to the back of one's mind, and temporarily avoiding the pain it caused. To Randy, this bar was an escape; an escape from the pressures of his work, and the mess that was his marriage.

_An escape from his unstable mindset. _

Earlier that night, he'd lost a match to long-term rival Adam Copeland, much to his irritation. Adam was an arrogant son of a bitch, and this was only ammunition for him to use against Randy. With _Money In The Bank_ coming up that weekend, tensions were at an all-time high in the locker room, as each man had a slim to none chance of winning. Randy shouldn't be _earning_ title shots; they should be given to him, but instead, he was playing second fiddle. What did John Cena have that Randy didn't? John was supposed to be the whole package, but whatever John could do, Randy could excel.

The ringing of his cell phone in his pocket stopped Randy's train of thought. He pulled it out and saw his wife Sam was trying to call him.

Poor Sam. Randy could picture her now; sat at home alone in St Louis, biting her nails as she wondered where her husband was, who he was with, and more specifically, what he was doing. Sam was a natural worrier, and Randy didn't ease her nerves in anyway. Instead of answering, he rejected the call, sending the call to voicemail, and no doubt sending Sam's heart rate rocketing.

Pounding back another whisky, he held up his glass. "Another one," He slurred at the barmaid, who simply rolled her eyes at his lack of manners.

When he was on the road, Randy didn't care about 'interacting with other members of the roster', as Vince would rather he did. _He'd_ rather waste away his evenings in dive bars, alone and getting drunk. If it weren't for smoking laws, he'd probably try and get stoned too. This bar was exactly the kind Randy would spend his evenings in. It was usually out of town, and therefore relatively quiet – he didn't want to bump into fans. The booze would be cheap, not that Randy cared about saving money, and it was pretty much always dark.

There was something about the darkness that suggested escape, in the idea of absence. The reality was that everything was worse in the dark; like a child's fear of the dark. In the darkness, there's nothing else to focus on, so you're forced your troubles are at the forefront of your mind.

"There," The barmaid practically threw another whisky at Randy, giving him the opportunity to observe her – as well as he could in such a poorly lit room. Her body was covered in tattoos, and her low-cut top was trashy, but revealed such an impressive rack that he considered turning on the charm; it wouldn't be the first time he'd been unfaithful to Sam, and probably wouldn't be the last.

"I can see the headline now," A voice behind him said. "'_Top WWE superstar drowns sorrows in dive bar'. _How sad." Turning around, Randy expected to see a bitchy Cena mark, when instead he found himself face to face with Maryse Ouellet.

This wasn't her kind of establishment. With somewhat of a smirk, Randy asked, "What're you doing here?" Randy didn't know Maryse very well, but he had a fair idea of her type. A snob; prissy, high maintenance and bitchy.

Maryse chose not to answer, instead turning her attention to the tattooed barmaid. "Gin and tonic. Lots of ice."

"You wrestlers are damn rude," The barmaid scowled; obviously they'd been recognised.

"Does your boyfriend know you're here?" Randy was, of course, referring to WWE superstar, Ted DiBiase, who had recently gained the 'services' of Maryse. There was history between Ted and Randy; former Legacy cohorts turned rivals. They hated each other.

"Ted doesn't own me," Maryse sipped at the G&T the barmaid brought over. "I can do what I want."

"He might take away some of those fancy gifts if you do anything to upset him." Ted's trust-fund was unlimited, and he enjoyed spoiling his women with gifts. And expensive ones, at that.

"I make my own money; I'm not with Ted for his wallet."

"Well, it's hardly for his sparkling personality." Randy countered. Ted was a brat, and his head may as well have been filled with dollar bills because there wasn't much else going on up there.

"You shouldn't speak about my boyfriend that way," Maryse said with a hint of a smile.

Randy didn't say anything, instead watching as Maryse sipped from her glass, and checked her Blackberry. Normally, the blonde was extremely smart in her fashion choices; high-end couture dresses and killer heels, but she toned it down tonight, in dark skinny jeans, a black sweater and knee-length leather boots. "That's a nice necklace," He pointed at the silver string that was looped around her neck. "A present from Ted?"

"You just can't drop it, can you? Anyone would think you had a crush on the guy." Maryse joked, fingering the delicate chain. "Whatever I choose to do with Ted is _my_ decision."

"Strong reaction, did I touch a nerve?"

"You're a dick."

"And you're a bitch, but I don't spread it around." He turned away from her, and looked straight ahead at the liquor cabinets behind the bar. He didn't need to deal with drama like her.

"I shouldn't have even come-"

"Why did you come?"

"You really wanna know?" She challenged.

"Well, I'm not doing much else, so why don't you entertain me?"

She sighed. "I look into your eyes, Randy, and there's nothing there. No soul, no conscience; nothing" Maryse thought about all the times backstage at Raw where she'd lost herself, just staring at Randy, wondering what was going on in his twisted head. She could look at him forever and he wouldn't even realise; he was so caught up in his thoughts. "People try to get to know you, but you shut them away, because you're scared-"

"You think I'm scared?" He sounded insulted. "You don't know me-"

"I don't claim to, but I have my assumptions," They were both staring at each other now, sat with their knees touching. "As do many people on the roster. Somewhere in those cold blue eyes is a man who's gone through a lot of pain and suffering, and he just wants to be saved from the torture he inflicts upon himself." Promptly upon finishing her sentence, Maryse found herself stopped by the feeling of Randy's soft lips kissing hers. It was a harsh press of lips at first, as Randy waited for Maryse to allow his tongue entrance, but she pushed him back. "You're married," She reminded him. Adding some cynicism to her voice, she continued, "Think of your poor wife, sat at home on the couch, pulling her hair out in fear that you're at a bar with a woman that's much prettier than she is-"

Another kiss stopped her, but this time, Maryse reciprocated, pulling at the collar of Randy's shirt to deepen the kiss. His tongue explored every cave of her mouth, and his hands rested in the curve where her waist became her hip. Maryse felt herself responding to his kiss, wanting to be closer to him with every touch and every stroke.

"They have rooms here," He breathed, pulling away slightly, allowing himself to smirk as he noticed her eyes fluttering and her lips pouting. Taking everything into consideration, he could have her upstairs and laid out on the bed within four minutes.

"You sure you want to do that?" It was as if she was challenging him, and he liked it.

"I have no soul and no conscience, how could I have regrets?" After quickly exchanging words – and money – with the barmaid, she agreed that she'd add the room fee to the tab so he wouldn't have to bother stopping the moment to deal with money. Randy led Maryse up to one of the bedrooms, it was dingy and grimy, but neither of them was there to criticise the interior design.

As Randy securely locked the door, Maryse fell onto the bed, feeling a sudden tired rush fall over her; however she didn't have time to change her mind, as Randy climbed onto the bed to resume what they'd started downstairs. Stopping only to shed their clothes, Randy continued to make Maryse feel things she'd never felt before. Sitting upright to watch as Randy pulled a condom out of his wallet, she frowned. She felt alive and buzzing, but couldn't help but wonder what was on his mind; was this just normal for him? Taking women home and pleasing them? Maryse couldn't contemplate anymore, as Randy began what would be the start of a long night.

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Gently biting down on the lip opposite her, Maryse tried to remember every little detail of what had happened the previous night. Her lips felt ravaged, her hip bones and pelvic muscles were sore and every so often, her eyes would flutter shut due to the lack of sleep she'd gotten, but she felt better than she had in a very long time. Everything ached, but in a wonderful way. Everytime she thought of Randy's hands...Randy's lips...she'd shudder deliciously. She had very high expectations of men, but he certainly exceeded them.

Just thinking back on it made her blush, but not with embarrassed. There was nothing remotely embarrassing about what had happened. At least, Maryse wasn't embarrassed about it.

"You feeling alright, babe?" And then in that moment, when she opened her eyes, she remembered that it wasn't Randy there anymore, but Ted and his mediocre kisses. She suddenly felt bitterly disappointed. "You've been acting weird all day,"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I didn't get a lot of sleep last night." This wasn't a lie. Ted was such a heavy sleeper that Maryse had managed to sneak out of their hotel room, meet Randy and then return at six am, just in time for Ted's six thirty alarm without him knowing a single thing. He could be a total bonehead sometimes.

He nodded slowly, knowing there was nothing he could do to help her. Instead he looked up at the clocked on the wall and asked, "You ready to go out to the ring?"

"Sure," She looped her arm through his and left the locker room, allowing him to lead her to the gorilla position. He continued talking to her, and occasionally she'd respond with a smile or a nod and head shake in the appropriate place, but she was just so bored of him. From the darkness of the gorilla position, Maryse looked back into the backstage area and saw something that was surprisingly upsetting to her.

Randy's wife Sam was at Raw, walking hand in hand with her husband. She'd never seen Sam before – only heard of her – and she was just as she'd expected her to be. A petite brunette wearing jeans, a simple black jacket and black flat pumps; she was fairly average looking in Maryse's opinion. There were worry lines etched into her face and she definitely looked sleep-deprived.

_What was she doing here? _Maryse thought to herself, watching the couple intently. Randy's match had just finished, and he was still wearing his tights and boots, clutching a towel in his free hand. His other hand clutched Sam's and pulling her towards his locker room, before they both disappeared inside.

What Maryse wouldn't give to be a fly on the wall.

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Sam's arrival on Raw had certainly caught Randy off guard. No warning, not even so much as a phone call or a text, instead she just turned up at his locker room saying 'I tried calling you last night'. Randy, however, had been too busy drinking and fucking Maryse to pick up, so he muttered something about a lack of reception.

Once his match was over, he quickly led Sam back to the empty locker room and took a shower in an attempt to clear his thoughts. Sam patiently waited for him in the eerily silent locker room, keeping herself busy as she did so. First, she checked the messages on her cell phone and then dug out the sheets of paper that were burning a hole in her handbag. She laid them out across the bench, checking they were all in the correct order.

A couple of moments later, Randy came out of the shower, now dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. A damp towel was draped around his neck, however he quickly tossed it onto the floor, silently infuriating Sam. He never picked up after himself at home and he obviously didn't on the road either.

Randy walked over to the bench and picked up the paper, giving it a once over. "You're kidding, right? This is some kind of joke-"

"I'm afraid it's the truth," She sat with her back to the lockers, arms folded. "I didn't want to drag this process out any longer than needs be-"

"Sam, let's talk about this-"

"It should be a fairly simple divorce. I mean, it's not like we have kids or anything." That was definitely a cheap shot; Sam had wanted kids ever since their honeymoon but Randy was putting it off for as long as possible. "I want this over as quickly as possible so I'm not gonna cause you anymore inconvenience in your life-"

"You're not an inconvenience-"

"-and you can have the house in St Louis and all the cars except my own. I'm gonna stay with my parents for a while-"

"Will you just listen to me for a minute, Sam?" Randy yelled, causing her to stop midsentence. He knew their marriage wasn't perfect and it was his entire fault, but divorce? It seemed so...drastic. So sudden. "Why are you doing this?"

"Do you think I'm a fucking idiot, Randy?" Sam never swore. "How would you feel if you were the idiot sitting by the phone every evening, wondering where your partner is when none of his colleagues know either? Like I said, I'm not an idiot. You're sleeping with other women, I get it, but I thought we'd been together long enough for you to be honest with me." She paused. "Do I even want to know the number?"

Reluctantly, Randy shook his head.

"No, you just don't remember the number," She shook her own head. "Y'know, everytime my friends told me you being on the road was bad news, I'd say 'We're different, we're so in love that we make it work...' but it doesn't work. And it hasn't been for a while."

Randy surprised himself at how upset he was. He was completely caught off guard and absolutely speechless.

"These papers are just copies. I'll get my lawyer to send you the real documents. If you need to contact me, I won't be at home so call me on my cell or at my parents."

Before he could respond it any way, Sam began gathering up her documents and other items and dashed out of the locker room, leaving her soon-to-be ex-husband alone.

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Discretion usually wasn't something Maryse used, for her it was all about the extravagance and glamour, but she'd been forced to watch the door of Randy's locker room from afar, desperate to know what he and Sam were talking about.

Since returning from the ring, Ted had disappeared off somewhere with Adam to discuss 'strategy' in their tag match the following week against John Morrison and of course, Randy. This left Maryse alone to occupy herself and she decided what better way than to do some spying? The plan, however, was flawed, seeing as there was a door between herself and the couple. She sat outside the locker room on a nearby chair as casually as possible, pretending to check her Blackberry whilst listening as intently as she possibly could. No sound came through the wall apart from one shouted sentence however it wasn't clear enough for Maryse to distinguish.

All she could do was wonder what was being said but the door opening and Sam exiting in a hurry indicated all was not married bliss. Much like when Maryse had seen her earlier, Sam's face was serious but gone too quickly for Maryse to observe.

Tentatively, Maryse knocked on the door. There was no answer so she, never one to take no for an answer, pushed it open.

He was sat down on the bench, now dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, but his head was in his hands. She couldn't hear him crying but the slow rise and fall of his shoulders showed he wasn't happy.

"Randy?" She closed the door behind her, a look of genuine concern on her face.

And then he looked up. Maryse thought of all the times she'd looked into his eyes and saw no emotion, just a cold man. This time, she saw someone that'd been hurt. Once again, no tears, but a lot of pain.

"What's wrong?" Just looking at him, she knew the answer. Sam had ended things. Nothing else could elicit such a reaction.

"Fuck off, Maryse." He muttered. "I don't want to see anyone right now."

"You're allowed to be sad." She pointed out. "You're allowed to be the vulnerable one; it doesn't make you weak."

"I'm not sad." He said quietly. "I'm mad."

"Why's that?"

He made a hissing noise, not wanting to talk about it, but Maryse wasn't going to let it lie. "Even when she's divorcing me, she's rational and thinking of me. I get everything and she's happy to leave with nothing."

"Surely that's a good thing?"

"Not when she should be screwing me for everything I'm worth. I don't deserve that kind of treatment; I was a shit husband and she's always deserved better."

"And she's getting her fresh start. If all your cars and houses are there, she can't get that closure."

"I think getting away from me was a better reward than any material possessions I could give her."

He had a heart. Randy Orton had feelings but he covered them up with coldness. His empty front was a way of shutting people out so they couldn't hurt him to begin with. He shut Sam out when all she wanted was for him to let her in.

"Maybe you need closure too," Maryse suggested.

She held out her arms and allowed Randy to pull her in close and feel the warm radiating from their bodies. From where his mouth rested on the side of her head, Maryse felt him smile against her hair. Randy didn't need a wife nor did he need Maryse's consoling conversation.

He needed an escape.

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